


Hurting and Healing

by jobaloba



Category: Call the Midwife
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-05
Updated: 2018-12-01
Packaged: 2019-07-25 15:31:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16200413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jobaloba/pseuds/jobaloba
Summary: The happy couple is blissfully engaged, but Patrick has a confession to make.





	1. Hurting and Healing

Ch 1

Shelagh sat on the edge of her bed, staring at the ugly green wallpaper of her tiny boarding house bedroom. 

Pain. It was the one coherent word in her mind, the only one word to describe the heavy ache within her soul. Pain. Pain. Pain.

Perhaps she was born to suffer. Perhaps it was the plan God had for her. From childhood she had known so little of abundance, and so very much of loss. “For he that hath, to him shall be given: and he that hath not, from him shall be taken even that which he hath.” She heard the scripture in Mark as a child, had heard and read it many times since. She had always regarded the words as cold, unjust, and wretchedly true.

She had never had much, but the little she had was taken from her. Her dear mother, her father’s affections, her older brother in the war, her home. A life of vowed poverty and chastity had made sense to her. God couldn’t take from her what she didn’t have to begin with. No possessions? No family? No heartache when they were removed from her life. 

But very recently a beautiful hope had been growing within her heart. She had allowed herself to believe that maybe, just maybe she could be someone to whom much was given after all. And since the man she loved had found her on that misty road, an ache of happiness had been welling up inside her, so deep it had almost frightened her. Maybe it should have frightened her. Perhaps it really was all too good to be true. True love and happy endings were a possibility for others, but not herself. She closed her eyes and let herself relive the scene from just a few hours ago. 

She had arrived at the park a few minutes before their designated meeting time. She took a seat upon the cosy, bench overlooking a small stream that meandered through the park. She smiled at the sound of the babbling water. Of course, she had been smiling at everything since the day before when Patrick had placed the delicate ring upon her finger, and kissed her hand like she was the most precious gift in the world. 

She heard a nearby bird chirping, and the distant sound of children playing. She closed her eyes and sighed a content, peaceful smile. She thought if Sister Monica Joan were nearby she would probably quote Browning, “God’s in his Heaven, All’s right with the world.” And it would be very fitting. 

“Hello” Spoke a gentle masculine voice. 

She opened her eyes and her smile widened. “Hello” She replied as she scooted over and Patrick sat beside her. 

He took her right hand in both of his, and she wondered if she would ever get used to the way his eyes shone with tenderness whenever he looked at her. They sat like that several moments, not speaking, but smiling at one another. She was learning that that was the way it was with them, the way it would be. They could say so much without saying a thing. She looked deeply into his shining eyes, so happy that she could now do so without the shame and guilt from before. 

It was miniscule, barely perceptible, but Shelagh did notice when his mouth twitched downward slightly, and a look of trepidation passed over his eyes. 

“What is it?” She asked softly. 

He swallowed, and then with a look of resolve said. “There’s something I think I should tell you.” 

“Alright.” She tried to smile. But something about his hesitant manner made her heart race. 

He looked down at their joined hands, and his grip tightened as he began speaking.  
“A few weeks ago...” He paused. Cleared his throat. Was he sweating? 

“ I met up with an old friend for dinner.” Another pause. 

Shelagh nodded blankly at him. He continued. 

“Her name is Lillian. She’s written to me several times since Marianne passed, asking me to meet with her, to catch up. Marianne and I were good friends with Lillian and Charles when we were young couples you see. And Charles passed away a few years ago. Lung cancer.” 

Shelagh blinked at him, her mind trying to understand what the significance was of what he was saying.

“Anyway, one day she stopped by the surgery and invited me out for a drink. Tim was with his Grandmother. I wasn’t on call, so I agreed. We… we both had too much to drink.” Another pause and then “She invited me back to her flat and…”

He was still staring at their hands. Shelagh felt his grip tighten. She felt her stomach tighten. 

She felt a swelling ache, a familiar ache. She remembered her childhood kitchen, her aunt sitting her down at the table and instructing her to not cry and cause a scene but she had something to tell her about her mother. She remembered the same home, but this time outside in the front garden overlooking the glen. Her father walking home slowly, languidly with a paper in his hand, a telegram explaining what had happened to her brother at Normandy. 

To her that hath not, shall be taken away. 

“And?” Shelagh asked, although she knew. Perhaps others would think a woman who spent the last ten years as a nun would be more naive. But not Shelagh. She knew what happened behind closed doors. She knew how often men and women were overtaken by their lustful desires. She knew that it was a powerful force that ripped through families and marriages leaving heartache and devastation behind. But she never thought it would tear through her life. 

Finally his eyes met hers. They were desperate, beseeching. She’d never seen such a look from him. It frightened her. 

“And I slept with her.” He said quietly. 

The nervous energy left her body in an instant. She sat there deflated. 

“Darling, you have to understand….” He began frantically as his grip tightened. “I was… I was so completely lost. I had written letter after letter to you, with no response. I felt there was no hope of ever being with you.” 

She couldn’t bring herself to look at him. She looked at their hands, still joined together on his lap. 

She tried to pull her hand from his, but his grip was iron tight. She used her left hand to extricate her right hand from his grasp. She clasped her hands in her lap, and faced forward, away from him. She stared blankly ahead at the gurgling stream, which she now noticed was quite dirty. 

“Shelagh” He pleaded. 

Unbidden, a memory came to the front of her mind. She was trying to help Myra Higgins push through an intense contraction. Myra was screaming incoherently. But as the contraction subsided, and she calmed down she began cursing her husband’s name. It wasn’t a rarity. Many women cursed their husbands’ names when they were in the peak of labour pains. But what surprised Shelagh, Sister Bernadette then, was when Myra sobbed out “And he’s probably down at cable street with some whore as we speak!” 

Myra’s mother, a small, worn down woman snapped, “Myra, for God’s sake! Can you blame him? You said yourself you haven’t been exactly willing lately. He’s just doing what all men must.” 

Shelagh remembered the outrage she felt towards Myra’s mother. Not all men! She wanted to yell. Dr. Turner’s kind, tired eyes had come to her mind. 

“Shelagh, my love. Please look at me!”

She couldn’t do that. She couldn’t look into those kind, tired eyes now and see something else too. 

What all men must. 

She shook her head. 

“I thought you were different than other men.” She said flatly. He did not respond and after a moment she stood and looked down at him. His head was in his hands. She turned from him, and without glancing back, she walked away. 

Pain. She let it wash over her now as she lay down slowly upon her uncomfortably springy bed. She thought about her time in the sanitorium. The miserable days, the lonely nights. How she suffered, how she struggled between her devotion to God and her love for a man. How she somehow found the strength through all the pain. How she chose to leave her life behind. How she chose to walk away from her dear sisters, from her place in the community. How she chose him over everything else. And how while she was suffering and struggling and deciding and sacrificing, he had found pleasure in the bed of another woman. 

She closed her eyes. The pattern of the wallpaper still flashing as orange light on the inside of her her eyelids. What now? She asked herself. But there were no answers to be found within her. She was gutted, hollow inside. The tears came then. And they didn’t cease until sleep claimed her.


	2. Chapter 2

Ch 2

Patrick went to pull a cigarette from his case, but found it empty. He cursed himself for not buying more. He’d been so distracted lately. He tossed the empty case onto the floor as he sunk into the sofa. 

What now? He asked himself for the hundredth time. Shelagh had left him alone on the park bench. No goodbyes. No promises to see him later. Nothing. She had walked away from him like she had that day at the sanitorium, without a backwards glance. 

He slouched further into the sofa, as he allowed himself the bitter thought; I should never have told her. 

Why had he volunteered the information? It wasn’t as though he had been unfaithful. They had not been a couple at the time. In fact, she hadn’t even answered a single letter! She’d been a nun! A nun who had given him no indication that she cared for him, that they would ever have a life together. How could she possibly blame him?

But a pair of innocent and lovely blue eyes appeared in his mind. The eyes were wide with shock and sadness as he had told her of his… indiscretion. Those beautiful eyes! And he knew in his gut that she could blame him, that she should blame him. 

She had been ill, very ill, shut away in a bleak sanatorium. She had been tormented with doubts, many caused by himself. She had been ill and miserable and confused. But she had been so very strong. She had found the courage during those last weeks to leave a life behind and to begin a new one with him. Meanwhile he had gotten drunk and had slept with an old friend. She had been strong. He had been weak.

And it had been weakness; weakness, loneliness, and even fear. It hadn’t taken much convincing from Lillian to have a few more drinks, to go back to her flat. And when she had begun to kiss him he did not pull away. And when she led him to her bedroom and whispered, “Please. I need you.” He didn’t refuse her. 

Since Marianne’s death he had existed in a haze of sadness and pain. His one light in the world was his dear son. Then one day after a shared cigarette by his car, he had realized a new kind of ache had been settling deep within his chest. An ache for a woman he could not have. Weeks went by and it became an ache for a woman he could not have that was ill and shut a way in a Sanatorium. A woman who did not answer his letters.

He was so weary from the pain and from the ache. For once he wanted to feel pleasure. Raw, intense, human pleasure. His last coherent thought before he succumbed to the moment had been Maybe this will help me move on once and for all. 

Of course it hadn’t helped him move on. Not a whit. Waking up in Lillian’s bed had been brutal. The headache for one, then the crushing guilt and regret. He wasn’t sure who had apologized more, himself or Lillian. It was a small relief in the turmoil of it all, to know that she saw their night together as a mistake as much as he did. 

As he had driven back to Poplar, the ache was so heavy, so deep that he had to pull over at one point just to breathe. It was then on the side of the with the sound of cars rushing past that he admitted to himself that the night with Lillian had not propelled him forward into moving on with his life. It had instead, cemented in his consciousness what a part of him must have known all along. Sister Bernadette was branded on his heart, and that wasn’t going to change. Ever. 

It had been dark days that followed. Until one day he received a telephone call. He heard her sweet voice. He went to her, found her on a misty road. And the ache in his chest had been lifted. It had been replaced with an exquisite hope. The love he felt for Shelagh felt strong enough to erase all his ugly memories. Her smile, her kisses, her love would help him forget. 

But how could he forget now? It may very well be that one night would mean the end of all his hopes for himself and Shelagh. 

The front door opened and slammed shut, and Patrick sat up straight on the sofa. 

Timothy! Was school out already? What time was it? His mind felt a blur.

“Dad!” Timothy said in surprise as he walked into the sitting room. “I didn’t think you’d be home this early. I thought you were to be at the surgery all day?” 

Patrick turned to Timothy and said quietly, “I called in Dr. Hanks to cover for me.” 

“Oh.” Said Tim as he plopped into the chair beside him. “You never do that. Aren’t you feeling well?”

Patrick took a deep, shaky breath. “No. Not really.” 

“That’s rotten luck. Will Shelagh still be coming for dinner?”

Patrick shook his head. “No. I don’t think she’s coming.”

Tim studied his Dad who was staring blankly at the opposite wall. “Dad, you do look pretty bad. Should I make you some tea? Or I know! I’ll telephone Shelagh. I’m sure she’d want to help you feel better.” Tim stood up. 

Patrick grabbed Tim’s hand. He squeezed it, and his jaw quivered. 

“I don’t think Shelagh wants to see me right now, Tim.” 

“What? Why not?” His young son asked with confusion

“I...I have done something…. that...that hurt her feelings.”

“What did you do?” Tim demanded. 

Patrick shook his head. Timothy took a few backwards steps away from his father, but still facing him. 

“Dad?” But Patrick kept staring at the fireplace. “Dad!” Tim was almost shouting now. Patrick looked up finally. His son’s eyes were wide with what Patrick could see was fear.

“Is she still going to marry you? Is she still going to be my mum?” The young boy barely choked out. 

“I don’t know.” His father said with weary eyes. “I don’t know.” He repeated in a whisper. Tim turned without another word, just as Shelagh had done earlier. Patrick listened to his son’s loud footsteps as he ran up the stairs and into his bedroom. His door shut with an angry slam that echoed around Patrick’s already throbbing head.


	3. Chapter 3

“Timothy!” Sister Julienne exclaimed as she opened the heavy front door of Nonnatus house. She had been expecting a frantic expectant father, or perhaps the Vicar’s wife wanting to discuss another fundraiser scheme. She had certainly not expected to find the young Turner lad upon the doorstep shifting his weight back and forth on his feet, looking agitated.

“Shouldn’t you be in school?” She asked him.

“I….I just need to talk to...someone.” He said looking at her anxiously. 

She nodded and ushered him inside. She stole a glance at him as they walked towards the sitting room. He was ringing his hands. His eyes looked red and puffy. What could be wrong? And why would he come to her?

They entered the sitting room, and Sister Julienne pointed him to the small sofa. He sat down as did she. She folded her hands in her lap, and gave him a smile that she hoped was reassuring. 

“What can I help you with Timothy?” She asked softly. 

“I know that you talk to God a lot.” Tim said matter of factly. 

Sister Julienne nodded slowly. “Yes, I do.” 

“And sometimes I hear people asking you to pray for them, or their families…” 

“Yes” She said kindly. “We always try to remember those in need.”

“Well, do you think you could remember my family in your prayers?” He asked as his jaw began to tremble, and tears pooled in his eyes. 

“Oh Timothy! What is it? What is wrong?”

He didn’t answer right away. Sister Julienne put a hand on his arm and handed him her handkerchief. She watched as he stoically sniffled until his tears stopped and after a few   
moments, and a good nose blow from Sister Julienne’s handkerchief, he straightened up and said in a shaky voice,

“Dad and Shelagh told you about them right? About how they wanted to get married? Shelagh said it was still a secret and that you and me were the only people that knew.” 

Sister Julienne smiled softly at the young boy. “Yes. They told me, and I couldn’t be happier.” But the boy looked so troubled. She continued, “Is that why you are upset? You don’t want them to marry?”

“I do want them to get married!” He said almost defiantly. “I like Shelagh more than any other girl I know. And I wanted her to come live with us, and to be my mum.”

Sister Julienne tilted her head and gave him a probing look, “Then what is the matter my dear?”

“They aren’t getting married anymore. Dad told me last night.” He said as his eyes pooled with tears again. He sniffled bravely, trying to stop another flow of tears.   
“They aren’t?” Sister Julienne was baffled. “Why ever not?”

Even as she asked, a part of her knew it wasn’t her place to question him. If the engagement were called off, it was a private matter which did not involve her unless Shelagh took her into her confidence, which she hadn’t done. But she couldn’t help herself. She was stunned.

Two days before, she had sat at her desk with Dr. Turner and Shelagh sitting opposite her. They had told her, in their own reserved, understated ways of their engagement. They had not spoken of love to her, but she had seen it in every glance the couple shared, in the way he took Shelagh’s hand in his with such reverent tenderness.

“I don’t know why” said Timothy sadly “All I know is that Dad did something that hurt her feelings. And now he doesn’t know if she still wants to marry him.” 

Sister Julienne took a deep breath. There would be time to understand later. Hopefully Shelagh would come to her, but if not she would seek her out, not to demand answers but to offer comfort. Whatever may have happened, she knew her dear good friend must be somewhere suffering yet again. 

“So will you pray for us? Ask God to make things so they’re alright again? So we can be a family?” 

She took his small hand in hers. “Yes, I will. I will pray for you, your father, and Shelagh.”

He sniffled and nodded. 

“And,” she added, “I want you to remember that no matter what happens, you are loved. Your father, your mother in heaven, Shelagh, all of us here at Nonnatus house, and especially God, love you very much.” 

He nodded, and attempted a smile.

“Now.” She said softly. “How about we go to the kitchen. I believe there is a stash of lemon puff biscuits hiding in the cupboard.”

“Alright!” He exclaimed as a genuine smile lit up his face. Sister Julienne couldn’t help smile. “And then,” she said pointedly “We will take you to school.”

“Alright” He said less enthusiastically. Sister Julienne chuckled softly.


	4. Chapter 4

Shelagh’s hand was on the door handle of Sister Julienne’s office. She had knocked. Sister Julienne had quietly called “come in”. Yet she hesitated. Was she doing the right thing? Coming to Sister Julienne? She was no longer her religious sister. She had left, abandoned them, had walked away and become someone else. Did she have a right to seek council anymore? 

“Come in.” Sister Julienne’s voice called out louder than before. Shelagh made her decision. She opened the door and stepped inside but stopped, frozen two steps in.

“Dr. Turner!” She exclaimed. For there sat Patrick across from Sister Julienne. He was turned in his chair to see who would walk through the door. His wide eyes told her he was as surprised to see her as she was to see him. 

“Shelagh, please, do come in.” Sister Julienne stood and came around the other side of her desk. She gestured for Shelagh to take the seat next to Patrick. 

Shelagh nodded mutely and found her feet carrying her and depositing her in the seat beside the source of all her recent exhilarating joy, the source of all her more recent sorrow. 

“What can I do for you my dear?” Sister Julienne asked kindly. 

“Oh. I…” Shelagh glanced sideways at Patrick and quickly back to the Sister “I came to speak with you about… erm..” Oh, what could she say with him sitting right beside her? 

As if sensing her discomfort, Patrick stood abruptly from his chair. “I better be on my way. Thank you again sister, for your help with Timothy this morning and… well everything.” 

“Of course Dr. Turner.” Was Sister Julienne’s soft reply. 

“Good Morning.” He offered his farewell, barely glancing at Shelagh as he made to exit.

“Wait!” Shelagh stood up from her seat as she called out louder than she intended. 

Patrick turned slowly and his eyes met hers. 

“Please don’t go.” Shelagh pleaded.

He opened his mouth as if to speak, but closed it again. Standing beside Shelagh,   
Sister Julienne placed a soft hand on her arm. And when she looked at her sister, they exchanged a silent conversation. Sister Julienne was gave her a questioning look, glanced quickly at Patrick still in the doorway and back to Shelagh who understood her meaning, Do you want me to leave you two alone?

Did she want to be alone with him? Was she ready? She wasn’t certain. She had come to speak with Sister Julienne. Seeing him was a shock. Would she have the strength to speak with him? She didn’t know. All she knew was that she did not want him to walk out that door. She looked at her sister and nodded. Yes.

Sister Julienne cleared her throat “I think I’ll just go see if I can catch Mrs. B before she heads home. I’d like to discuss next week’s menu with her. If you’ll excuse me.” She walked quickly out of the room and closed the door as she left. Patrick and Shelagh were left alone. 

He was still standing near the door. His manner was hesitant. His posture was slouched. His complexion was sallow. And his eyes spoke of sleepless nights, of a sort of tired sadness she hadn’t seen in him before. 

She felt a gush of warm sympathy. She wanted to reach out, to touch his face, to kiss it, to tell him she loved him. They would forget about what happened, put it in the past. He would smile. The worry lines would disappear. The sadness in his eyes would be replaced with joy and adoration. He would look at her as he did that afternoon in the parish hall kitchen when he had placed his ring on her finger. 

She heard a voice in her mind pleading You have the power to make him happy again. A gesture, a word or two is all it will take. He is hurting and you have the power to heal him. How can you let him suffer so?

“No ring.” Patrick’s voice interrupted her musings. 

“Hmm?” She asked.

“You aren’t wearing your ring.” He repeated. It wasn’t a question. It was a statement of fact delivered with a resigned sadness.

Shelagh looked down at her hand, and rubbed her bare ring finger. The ring sat in its box in the top drawer of her dressing table at the boarding house. She had taken it off when she had returned from home from their fateful meeting in the park. It hadn’t been an act of anger, but of confusion and sadness. 

Before she could form a thought, he spoke again. 

“And I’m back to ‘Dr. Turner’.” The heartbreak in his voice was almost unbearable. 

She had called him Dr. Turner! It had escaped from her lips before she could think. But was the slip of her tongue a manifestation of something deeper? The look of dejection on Patrick’s face made her think he must believe it was. 

Go to him! The voice yelled at her. Hold him. Heal him with your love!

But another voice arose inside her; quiet but insisting. What about you? Who will heal your pain? 

Shelagh took a deep breath and finally spoke. 

“The truth is” She began “I feel so very hurt by what you told me. Hurt by what you did.” 

“I know.” He closed his eyes in a grimace. “I know. And I am so deeply sorry Shelagh.” His quiet voice took on a different timbre of emotion. She felt the sincerity in his words, felt them in the core of her heart. She did not doubt that he was deeply, wretchedly sorry. Could that be enough? 

“You told me you have loved me for a long time. Yet you were intimate with another woman mere weeks before you proposed to me. It made me wonder if…if maybe you didn’t love me so much after all.” Her words trailed off into a bleak little whisper. 

Patrick was at her side in an instant. He encased her hand in both of his. 

“Shelagh!” He exclaimed. “Please don’t say that! Please don’t doubt I love you because…” He swallowed thickly. She watched his jaw tremble as he tried to compose himself. “I love you so deeply that I…” but his words seemed caught in his throat with the sob he was trying to contain. He could not continue. 

“I love you too.” She whispered. She hadn’t spoken the words to him before, and judging by the look of complete surprise on his face when he looked up at her, she wondered if he had given up hope of ever hearing them from her lips. 

“I can see now how it must have seemed to you; me ignoring your letters, giving you no indication that I’d ever leave the order. You were not bound to me then. I am still hurt by what you did. But I am trying to make peace with it.”

“Tell me what to do.” He told her passionately “Tell me and I’ll do it. I’ll do anything.” He looked at their joined hands as he added quietly “Even if it means letting go... if that is what you need from me.” 

“I don’t want you to let me go.” She said with conviction. “I still want us to be together.” As she spoke the words, she felt the truthfulness of them fill her being. 

His eyes lit up, and he tightened his grip on her hands. “Shelagh! You don’t know how happy I am to hear you say that….”

She removed a hand from his and held it up to halt his flow of elated words. 

“I want us to be together….. but I need time. I’m not ready to be engaged again. I think...I think even before I knew…” She sighed. “...it’s just too much, too soon.” 

His seemed a bit deflated by her words, but he nodded in understanding. 

“I think we need time to get to know one another better.” 

After a pause he asked “To court one another?” Both hope and uncertainty shining in his eyes.

She nodded and felt rather silly as she felt herself blushing. He looked down at their joined hands, and cleared his throat. 

“With the possibility of you putting that ring back on someday?” His eyes found their way back to hers. 

“Yes Patrick.” She whispered. He was back to being addressed by his first name. 

He smiled his lopsided smile. How she’d missed it! But he grew more serious as he said, “It doesn’t matter how long it takes…. How long you need. I will be here. I am and will always be completely certain.” 

The way he looked at her in that moment! It was a mixture of awe, reverence and adoration. Nobody had ever looked at her in that way. She tried to think of something to say, something equal to the intensity of his gaze. But she felt too overwhelmed by it all. So instead, she aimed to ease the tension with a mundane question.

“What were you and Sister Julienne discussing?” She expected a mundane answer. Polio vaccines,or autoclaves, or schedules or such. 

“I came to thank her for helping Timothy this morning.”

“Timothy?” She asked. “Is everything alright?”

“Yes, yes.” He was quick to assure her. “But apparently, Tim came here, to Nonnatus House this morning instead of school. He was rather upset, and came to ask Sister Julienne to…” He looked somewhat guilty as he continued “... to pray for us.”

“Oh dear.” Shelagh pictured sweet, young Tim upset and asking for prayers. It broke her heart. “He was worried about us? I never meant to…”

Patrick shook his head “Shelagh, it is not your fault. I didn’t explain things well to him at all.”

“Oh, the poor dear.” 

“He’s alright Shelagh. Sister Julienne gave him sweets and she said by the time he walked into the school, he was smiling again. He’s a good boy, and once I explain things properly, and once he knows you will still be a part of our lives, I think he’ll be just fine. Children are resilient. Remember?”

She smiled slightly. “It seems we’ve all approached Sister Julienne today.” 

“You came to seek her council.” Patrick said. 

“Yes, but Patrick I would have been vague. I wouldn’t have told her about what you...about your…”

“Indiscretion” He supplied

“I would not have told her.” She assured

“Well I did.”

Shelagh’s mouth dropped open “You did?” 

“I wasn’t planning to. It was just...all out of my mouth before I knew it. Does she have that effect on everybody?”

Patrick had confided in Sister Julienne? Shelagh could hardly imagine it. “What did she say to you?” 

He gave a heavy sigh. “She is disappointed in me. Saddened that I hurt you. But she was kind... encouraging actually. She did caution me to accept whatever decision you made. I promised her I would.” 

“Oh” Was all she could manage. 

“She loves you very much you know. And she knows how much I love you. Shelagh, are you sorry I told her?”

“No.” She answered honestly. “If it had been Sister Evangelina on the other hand…”

Patrick shuddered. “I wouldn’t have made it out alive!” 

They laughed together and when their laughter died down, they remained smiling at one another. Shelagh felt a bubble of joyful hope rise within her. They were going to be alright. She had been hurt, but she would heal. Looking into his smiling eyes, full of love for her, she knew the healing had already begun.


End file.
